


This Is Gospel

by frozenpapers



Category: Frozen (2013), Hans and Elsa, Helsa - Fandom, Iceburns - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Hansla, Iceburns, helsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenpapers/pseuds/frozenpapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was left to wither under the cold embrace of her own magic, like a flower left to freeze under the duress of winter. Lying still like the perfect Sleeping Beauty, her clock ticks in haste as she turns into an ice sculpture.</p><p>Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. But if her sister's love is not enough, then whose is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one: this is gospel for the fallen ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is gospel for the fallen ones  
>  Locked away in permanent slumber.”

                It’s a pity that the queen of Arendelle has fallen into a deep slumber. Encased in her own chambers, draped in black laces and silk woven by the fine maids of the castle, she lied still in her glass case, ironically  _frozen_. More of an antique porcelain doll than of a human being, the stretch of her inexplicable malady has shaken the roofs of the kingdom. The answers, which they thought would just be sitting at the top of the northern mountains, weren’t there. Desperate measures have been made, including placing the fragile body of the damsel under the nasty glares of the summer sun. But of course, it only made the queen’s body more frigid.

                She was cold as the ice that she had once woven out of her own dainty hands as for her skin; it was the color of the morning than of the expected alabaster. As the days passed by, she was becoming more of an ice sculpture than of a human being. The hope for a cure was dwindling like a fragile little flame on a two day old candle. The Princess Regent, who used to be so optimistic, has been visiting the queen’s chambers with a downward slope on her pasty face, the tears on her eyes hanging loose like silver strings from the moon.  If it was possible to see through the princess, it would be seen that the burning flame that represented her hope was more of like the gushing streams of a broken down dam. She had consulted the foster parents of her fiancé, taking her paperwork with her, spending every time she had on bringing her sister back. A phantom in the halls of her own home as she rarely leaves the library, and if she did so, it was to check on her unfortunate dear sister or to chariot towards the Valley. Her fiancé, the royal ice master, has been sent to Corona to compensate his beloved’s desperation. Even so his intentions were good, the rumors of him having found another still surfaced. Albeit the Princess Regent was isolated in her own home again, comforted with thick walls, books, and paperwork, the rumors did not fail to penetrate her heart.

                The only answer the elder of the bolder rocks, Grand Pabbie, has provided was the vague  _“only love will thaw a frozen heart”_  and after all these years of waiting and of waiting for her sister to thaw out, she had found it inconsequential. It had saved her once, but that doesn’t mean that it answers all the questions life has thrown at her face and dusted on her boots. Love wasn’t always the answer. Sometimes it was something else, something logical. And so, with her optimism turning into pessimism, she shut the door to the library and began reading the books her father had archived.

                She hoped to God she’d find something this time.

**. . .**

                The estranged prince sat at the corner of his cell, his hands shaking, the loneliness sitting at the other end of the bench like a common con in a local pub. It raised its hand to him as if to wave, a crooked smile pasted on its empty stark face. Just like that, the black hole, which he’s so accustomed to, was now sucking all there was inside of him, leaving the hurt and the weight of not having her with him. He’d give everything to have her back, even risk his life to hear her stern voice flowing through the dense halls of the dungeon. But he had nothing, just the title of a traitor and the castigation God has bestowed upon.

                He stopped at that and raised his head from his grubby hands, eyes wide, heart thumping loudly on his chest. What if this was God’s way of punishing him? The only thing that could penetrate deeply through him was Elsa. She was the only thing that mattered to him albeit he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself. But why would He hurt such a beautiful thing? Why would He destroy it like a flower? She was good, and that’s not bad. Albeit all she has been through, she managed to be someone every con would envy. She had never let her powers weave her into a monster everyone would fear, but why would she fall in such an ill fate? He didn’t know. Just like the kingdom, he didn’t know as to why it happened. But, he wasn’t  _just_  like the kingdom as he wasn’t a fragile little flame in the middle of the December night. He had faith.

                 _“It’s crazy to think that I see a man behind the beast. I’m not trying to flatter you, mind you. Flattery is the lowest part of wit based on my context. Nevertheless, I see a man, and I’m not going to give up on that man.”_

**. . .**

                 _“There’s hope for you, you know?” She raised a brow as she inched closer to him, still on guard but perspicuously at ease with his presence._

_He wanted to see fear in her eyes, but damned he was as he only saw concern and the making of a small smile on her pale face. He scowled as he avoided her wide blue gaze, profanities piping out of his lips like smoke._

_“You’re delusional.” He guffawed at that, the howls of his voice giving off the emptiness he felt._

_Her patience didn’t waver as she closed her cold hands against his. His anger boiled and bit the core of his bone at her countenance. Was there any fear left in this vile creature? It was perspicuous that there was not albeit he had wished that there was. At least there was leverage. It has been his talent to push someone at the edges of their chairs and to prickle the hairs on their skin – metaphorically speaking. But his talent wasn’t working on her, nothing was, and inside he was screaming._

_“Why don’t you kill me? Get the deed done, make your sister happy, and make it seem to your people that you have been the hero all along? Why don’t you do that? It’d be easier. At least the snake that’s been preying on your souls won’t slither anymore.” He forced the edges of his lips to rise into a slope to make it seem like a smile, but it ended up in a sad grimace that made his blood sing. “I’m negotiating a good deal, you know? All you need to do is bite.” He clamped his teeth together and managed a low rumble that turned into a roar, and winked at her._

_She only narrowed his eyes at him, her grip tightening. “Have you ever read the story of Snow White?”_

_He smirked as he furrowed his brows. “What does that have to do with this?”_

_She retrieved her hand back on her lap and sighed. “Well, the evil queen told her that one bite can make everything she wanted to come true. See, I wanted you dead. I’ve wanted you dead since the night I screamed my lungs out, thinking that you’re just right beside me, ready to get the deed done. I have dreamed of executing you with my bare hands, to twist your neck in the most wrong way.”_

_Hans grinned. “So why don’t you? I’ve got your invitation right here, dearie.” He waved his hand._

_“But that’s not the point. I did want you dead, but that was past tense. What I want is to give you another chance. What was published for the whole world to read was not the real story. For a person who has spent most of her life locked in her own home, I have made it my life’s mission to finish every book in that library.”_

_“And your point is?” he asked, boredom lacing in his tone as he rolled his eyes._

_She sighed again. “I have stumbled upon that book years ago. Snow White did not make the evil queen dance her toes off, she made a deal with her. She saw hope in her and so she acted upon that before it was too late. She knew that the evil queen had something fractured inside of her, so she fixed it. No matter how stubborn the queen was, she still chose to make the bitter woman realize that evil is not born, but it was made –”_

_“And they lived happily ever after. Blah blah blah.” He sniggered. “Elsa,” his voice felt like a cold shiver on her spine. “We’re in the real world. Do you think that I have some tale of woe that made me this way? Grow up! I am nothing like the evil queen. I am not some sad old woman who decides it’s best to hand over poisonous apples to kill people to get what she wants. I wanted the throne, yes, but I didn’t want to kill both of you. I just didn’t have any choice, it was the throne or you, and if I have chosen you, I would have ended up here too.” He stood now, looking at her with flashes of hatred, anger, and melancholy. He was a picture of a maddened bull, terrifying, but Elsa chose not to be terrified._

_She composed herself, closing her eyes and letting out a breath for a fraction of a second. “You know what I see?” she raised a brow. “I see remorse. I see how you look at me with anger. You’re angry because every second of the day you wish you could have chosen me over anyone else. You think that if you had, you wouldn’t have to feel sorry for what you have done.” She stood and smoothed the crinkles on her dress._

_“You don’t know me.” He said through gritted teeth, fighting the tears in his eyes. They felt like rocks, weighing him down for every second that passed._

_She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Oh, but I do. I’ve been you, and over and over I wished I have chosen Anna over secrecy. It’s how we work.”_

_She was greeted by silence with that._

_She smiled and nodded her head curtly as if to say goodbye. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”_

_He was greeted then by the bars of his cell and the distant claps of her shoes._

. . .

                That night, the Princess Regent found the answer to her questions. She closed the book she had been reading, took her sister’s cloak and took off like a thief in the middle of the night.

**. . .**

                That night, the estranged prince had followed one of his friend’s pieces of advice. He took the pin Elsa usually wore with her bun from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs on his hands. He knew a passage outside the cell and he was about to use it. This time he’d succeed as Elsa wasn’t there to see that he will not do such a thing.

**. . .**

_“Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was calm, but the authority was radiating off of it. There was no smile playing in her face this time. She had the look of a queen, one who knew her power._

_She didn’t open the locks, but instead watch him like a rat caught in the act. He swallowed the pebbles in his throat as he looked over his shoulder. Fear was dribbling off of him for the first time and he could feel it nibble on his sides._

_“There’s a trading post just a few miles up. Oaken would be a snitch and report your escape. Tell him that I pardoned you. Take all what you need, tell him I’ll pay him. Take a left and ease your way off the Valley so that the rock trolls won’t see you. There’s another route to my ice castle, go there. I assure you that there are no wolves on that side. Rest there and remain hidden until the sun sets. Kristoff is already home at that time. Take clothes before you leave, disguise yourself. There’s a boat that sails to Corona and Copenhagen. I’ll write Rapunzel and Ariel that if you end up in their kingdom, they are to care for you and hide you.” She sighed, her hands still closed above her lap, her stance still._

_Baffled, he stood from where he was and approached the bars that were separating them. “Why are you doing this?” He whispered, his hands clamped on the rusty cold bars._

_She shrugged. “There’s a criminal that needs to be taken care of. I figured he might need a hope speech. Things might turn the other way around with him, you know?” She smiled genuinely, her eyes sparkling with mischief._

_“Well, tell him to find another cell. I’m not leaving.”_

_“Why the change of heart?” She asked, amused._

_He shook his head and stalked back to his bench, kicking off the loose bricks. “I didn’t. I just don’t want to freeze in your ice castle.” He hissed. “I might leave tomorrow.” He said, lifting his head to show her his smirk._

_“Okay. I’ll inform the guards that I’ve pardoned you or would you rather run for your life? The choice is yours. Good luck and good night.” She blew the candle and left him in the darkness._

**. . .**

 

                He was going to find answers even if that meant running for his life.


	2. two: assembling their philosophies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Assembling their philosophies  
>  From broken pieces of memories.”

                 _“Why are you so afraid, my dear Elsa? It’s just blood.” He gave her a maniacal grin as he showed her his wrist, the bloody dagger rolling at the tips of his fingers._

_She was shivering as the wave of newly heightened scare played cops and robbers at her spine, her mouth dry, and her eyes glistening with fear. She swallowed the thick dust that formed in her throat, the grains of sand in her tongue._

_He moved like a phantom as he played the role of the ghoul. His eyes were a darker shade of green, one that resembled the deep forests filled with bane. They followed her with that look of a killer and of someone who had lost all sense, someone who was more of a beast than of a man. His grin turned into a sloppy beam that overpowered his pasty skin as he watched her underneath the terror he had inflicted on himself to push her off the goddamn bridge. He turned his wrist over and marveled the drip, drip, drip of scarlet. It poured down like the rain as it carried the mist of his life into the pit of darkness he had been asking for all along. She scurried now, all fear discarded on the side as she unlocked his cell with haste._

_It was as if a white sheet had been placed above him as his sight began to blur. The emptiness he felt inside of him grew into a monster and had numbed him with its gelidity. The only senses that decided to stand by and savor the rare disport were his sense of taste and of hearing. But the metallic flow of his own blood had drowned his taste buds and therefore deemed the sense to be of no use – not that he needed it anyway. Like an orchestra, the sound of her ragged breathing, mumbling, and the clapping of her heels were the only available instruments to be played on his funeral. He didn’t know whether he should be grateful for her fortitude or should he resent her for getting in the way. He knew that he should be damning her, but he couldn’t and he didn’t know why. In fact, he couldn’t bring himself to spit on her pallor to stain her immaculacy with a fine scarlet abstract. Part of him wanted to survive this fandango he had caused just so he could find out why he was being such a feather to her, whilst the other part, well, he didn’t if he still had another part._

_“Why are you doing this?” he croaked once he felt the warmth of her fingers on the side of his cheek. He buried his face into it, malevolence forgotten._

_She sighed as she propped him upon her lap. “I really don’t know.” She whispered, forcing herself to stay firm. Her anxiety was kicking at her shin, but it wouldn’t be fit if she succumbed to it. “But does it matter?” She murmured._

_He ignored the question and blinked hard enough to get a filmy vision of her. “My book is ending; a new chapter for the both of you is unfolding. Please just let a sinner redeem himself.” He mumbled, burying his face deep in her shaking thigh._

_She bit her lip. “This isn’t redemption, this is cowardice.”_

_He gazed at her, spending the last of his sight on her cerulean eyes. “At least it will relieve all of us.” He maundered, bringing his abstract of a hand to her pale face._

_She sighed as she turned her face to his hand. “It wouldn’t relieve me. It would make me feel the guilt of inadequacy.”_

_“There’s something more to this, isn’t there?” he asked, his voice fading away like sand in the svelte fingers of the wind._

_She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”_

_He was about to ask why it didn’t matter, why she regarded everything that concerned her feelings frivolous, when darkness hauled him into its cellar. He felt its claws dig at the back of his spine. So slow, so painful, until his eyes rolled at the back of his head and all he could see was starkness. It was fortunate that the devil had let him hear her cries for help. This was what he wanted, but suddenly, when he was already afloat into the nothingness, he wasn’t so sure anymore._

**. . .**

_He woke up when he felt something so bright pierce the tender skin covering his eyes. Everything was so bright, so white that he could hardly make out the things that surrounded him. A preposterous whisper had told him he was in Heaven, but he knew for himself he was not. He was a sinner, and he hadn’t repented at all. He had embarked guilt into the hands of the maiden who went out of her way just to help him back on his feet. One mere look at him, God would surely send him to the flaming gates of the devil’s lair without a second glance or a remark. But if he wasn’t in Heaven, where in God’s name was he?_

_Like impatient butterfly wings, he fluttered his eyes open, but his vision was still a blur. All he could see was an abstract of vibrant colors – not a masterpiece, but a mess of paint that had pained his eyes. As quickly as he had chanced his vision, he closed them with haste in fear of losing hi sight in a span of forever. He grimaced as he tried to move his hands, but they were of no use since it felt like it weighed more than a shipment he often carried back in the Southern Isles. A grunt escaped from his lips, so hollow and deep he doubted it belonged to him. The throe his simple efforts had caused protested like a rabble inside of him, convincing him that he was still stuck in the long prongs of the devil. He felt weak physically, emotionally, and mentally. His wayward thoughts had challenged his sanity as if his mind was splitting into two opposing officials whilst his emotions became weather, so unpredictable it made everything in him hurt. He knew once he’d get a chance to step out of this – wherever he was – he’d be lost and he knew he wouldn’t be prepared for the storm that would steer his boat into the wrong way. He knew he’d be toppled and swallowed by the knavish ocean. And suddenly, he succumbed into the fear of waking up._

_“You Majesty,” it sounded like a cloud, so far off, so silent. “I do not understand why you saved him from himself. He’s a criminal. From what I can see, he is a con artist. He’s fooling you right before your eyes! You should have left him to rot in his cell. That is justice.” The voice was a cloud that contained thunder, so loud, so truculent._

_“Believe me, I am not as gullible as you perceive me to be. My parents raised me to treat everyone fairly howbeit they’ve done you wrong. From what I know and what I’ve seen, the late king and queen – bless their souls – had never let their prisoners rot in those dank walls of the dungeon. I’m their daughter, and I’m following their example.” Her voice was like the ocean, so calm, but housed a terrifying roar._

_The distant cloud cleared his throat, preparing yet another thunder. “We don’t know what he’s capable of; he might kill us in our sleep! How foolish can you be?” he could hear the rumbling inside that cloud, the thunder claps awaiting the blow._

_The ocean rolled a wave, its calm turning into something powerful yet, it did not show violence. “Fear is foolishness, Lord Mallory.” It was one wave, but the crash on the damp sand had exhibited the power it was capable of. Someone who’d challenge such power would be undoubtedly obtuse._

_And of course, the cloud was too blunt to believe he could reach the ocean and snatch its power. The cloud hadn’t calculated the great distance between the sky and the waters. “This – this hesitation has led me to believe that you are having an affair with this con artist! It is such a shame a queen as gallant as you would stoop so low.” The cloud tried to snatch the strength of the ocean with its lightning, but the water did not flinch._

_The ocean roared; its waves once calm rolling into one gigantesque monster. It was beauteous. “Isn’t it a crime to have such a poisonous doubt against your superior? I do believe that you are pulling desperate cards just so you could get what you want. Do tell me, Lord Mallory, when had your judgments led you into something worthwhile? And may I remind you that I have rescued you from Corona. You were a criminal yourself, stealing from the town’s money just so you could save your house under mortgage. They never did like a thief, especially when the thief was well-trusted. You’ve to thank your lucky stars I was there when Rapunzel and Eugene were about to sentence you to death.” The ocean laughed at the desperate grasps of the sky. “Spend your free time praying to God I won’t tell the Duke about this little encounter. You are dismissed.” The cold spray of the ocean was enough for the cloud to float higher, away from the threatening laps of the waters._

_There was a click, which he believed it to be the cloud, making his shameful exit. Claps of wood penetrated the carpeted floor; it was a different tune, a different swing to the rhythm. He knew it didn’t belong to the queen for the step reminded him of the wind, so eager, so effervescent._

_The wind blew a cold breeze, something that was way out of character. “Is he all right?” it hesitated, testing the waters, blowing in between hate and pity._

_The ocean sensed the breeze, but decided to stay calm lest it might upset the rhythm. “I hope so.” It murmured, its bluest waves gazing at the svelte pants of the airy fellow._

_It swished. “If you think that this is the right thing to do, then do it. I support you, you know that.” It blew into calm, the sympathy for the ocean dangling at the tips of its feathers._

_The ocean swayed on the rocks. “But are you okay with this – with this idea?” it stayed on the salted sharp pedestals, trying to control its flow. Whatever authority it had on the seven seas, it dissipated. It seemed like the wind was its sore knee._

_It blew a hesitant breeze. “The wounds are still raw, but I think I’m all right. I’m not feeling ill about him alive, just a little vexed and scared and weird. I don’t know. I feel uncertain.” It gave a reassuring dance down the testy waters, hoping it’d calm down._

_It did though, and it flowed smoothly away from the spears. “I’m planning to redeem him.” The ocean rolled._

_“That’s what you do. I wish I had the spine to do so one day.” The wind’s svelte fingers touched the ocean’s wave lightly. “I wish you the best of luck. I love you.”_

_“Thank you, Anna. I love you, too.”_

_With that, he heard the door click for the last time, the darkness snatching him away again._

**. . .**

                Through his journey, the only approving companion he had was the moon, the rest – the strings of pearls, sneered at him, hiding their light selfishly behind the dark clouds. He calculated his steps, praying to God not a soul would see him. The thought of sneaking back to the castle was pushed aside, shrugging the need of the royal library away. He had adequate information about the rock trolls, knew that they could help him with his predicament. He knew they weren’t selfish beings, and knew they might have known his existence and resented him for it. There was a slim chance that they’d grace him their presence, knowing that they only served the good and those who needed it the most. But who could resist helping the unfortunate queen? He was holding onto Her Majesty’s fate, hoping they’d see reason and help him. He knew it might require magic, and had known since that magic often came with a price. If the price required someone’s life, he’d gladly hand over his just so he could hear her voice again. He’d be a slave just so he could pay the debt.

                He decided it was best to go by foot. He didn’t have a map with him and it would be useless to ride a stolen horse in circles when the kingdom might go searching for the escapee. It would be easy to hide when there wasn’t any liability that was as big as a cow. Moreover, it’d be suspicious for a commoner to ride through the woods at this time of the night. So, he decided to be nuance as he took his time dressing himself with plain cloth woven with bland and cheap threads. Hesitantly, he grabbed the grubby knife on top of the barrel, shaving his sideburns off. But even so, he knew he wouldn’t fool a town idiot. He sighed as he casted his melancholic gaze over the muck, the butt of the rock peering over him like an aroused damsel.

                He grimaced as the perfect plan slapped him across his cheek. It would be painful, but it would be worth it.

**. . .**

                 _She could hear her sister’s cries in the middle of the night. It was like a song from the nightingale, the sound so thin like a feather that it almost seemed poetic. She aroused from her bed, yawning as she listened to the queen’s needle-like moans. Oddly, it was like music to her ears. It didn’t seem like she was crying for help, it seemed like she was singing to herself, humming a lullaby to hush the creatures that were still awake at this time of the night. She stood, her eyes still lathered with the dust scattered by the Sand Man. She yawned, hoping to God that her sister was only singing a non-existent tune, wanting to go back to sleep. But just as she was about to leave the room, the cries stopped and she was beyond relieved to have to go back to the embrace of her soft bed._

**. . .**

                God was she wrong about the singing. The morning after her sister’s cries were brutal, it was the day they found her frozen in her own bed, imprisoned in deep slumber. She should have gone with her instinct instead of ignoring it. Hans was right. She wasn’t the sharpest of the knives, wasn’t the brightest of the stars. She had let her own imagination kill her sister. Her denial was what had entangled her sister in such an ill fate. If she had just listened for once, she would have helped her sister evade the inevitable. She was a part of the crime, the spoon to an unmixed batter. If she had intervened, this wouldn’t have had happened. Now her punishment was suffocating her, the guilt rushing to her veins like fire. She could hear herself drowning in her penitence laden thoughts and had lost herself in the process. Her guilt wasn’t doing Arendelle a favor and neither was it helping her fiancé – if he was still hers. It should be wilted away like a flower because it’s destroying her. She didn’t care if the act was selfish. All she wanted was to feel numb.

                And so, she hefted herself up her horse and rode away to the Valley.

**. . .**

                He hid himself underneath the hands of the brown cloth that suited rice more than body as the gallops of a horse neared him. He tried his best not to touch the raw swelling on his nose as he lowered himself behind the bush. Once the claps of steel against cobble had become distant, he emerged from the thorny bush covered in mire. He hoped to God the rider didn’t see him and prayed that the rider wasn’t a palace guard that noticed his absence. With a hopeful bite on his lip, he began his journey down the darkest of the forest.

**. . .**

                “Grand Pabbie!” she called out desperately, her hands gripping on her sister’s gloves like vises. The tears on her cheeks were like pearls as her blue eyes reflected the moon, the guilt eating her away, telling her that this wasn’t right.

                A rock emerged from the pit of darkness. Seeing this grey bolder, the Princess Regent sighed in relief. The guilt was driving her insane now as it gnaw at whatever reason she had left in her twenty-one year old mind.

                The grey bolder formed into a troll and approached the desperate damsel with little enthusiasm. “What is it, young one?” the elder asked, the irritation sliding off its stone tongue.

                The other part of her (the part that was now consumed with the poison of guilt) held her captive for a fraction of a minute. She bit her lip as she looked dastardly at her late (she’s already considering Her Majesty’s death) sister’s gloves and forced her tongue and lips to work. “I’ve – I’ve found a cure for all of this.” She muttered meekly.

                The elder troll gave her a look of uncertainty before asking, “What is it?”

                She clamped her teeth harder on her lower lip, already used to the pain the act caused. “My sister told me you erased my memories when we were young. It’s been three years since Elsa’s demise, I was hoping if you could erase her from the minds of the people and me.” She fidgeted as she could feel the tears prick behind her eyes. She was disgusted at herself.

                The elder gave it a thought, but decided against it. “Your sister’s not dead, you know.” He said accusingly, the irritation simmering like garlic on hot oil. “This is a selfish thing to do, dear Anna. You used to be so positive. What happened?”

                She balled her hands into fists. “Elsa happened!” She said at the top of her lungs, the emotions too much for her. “Love will thaw! Love will fucking thaw! My love can’t thaw her. It’s impossible.” She mumbled the last few words in defeat. “Whose love is stronger than mine?” she asked as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, her resolve falling on top of her.

                There was a movement behind the bushes that stopped the elder from speaking.

“You there, come out.” The bolder said as he spared the princess one look.

“I need your help.” The voice came from the bushes as it emerged behind it, revealing a figure covered in sack.

The Princess Regent ignored the newly arrived guest and continued to plead. “Pabbie, please,”

But Pabbie had his eyes glued on the tall figure, watching it with clear hopeful eyes as it neared them. “State your name, young lad.”

The figure hesitated, but then his mind lingered over the frozen body of Her Majesty. “Hans Westergard.” He said with enough confidence, trying to mask the fear.

It was clear the elder was enjoying this little show. “Show me your face.”

Slowly, he removed the sack that hovered on above his head, past the red curls that sat just before his forehead, revealing his broken nose and naked face. The tone on his visage had become tougher, a visage that was a beaut to the commoners, but not fit for a prince. He had done a decent job masking what was left of the estranged prince, but if you looked quite hard enough, you could still make out the lines of a royal. The lack of empathy Arendellians have nowadays was enough of an ingredient in his stew, but if anyone had enough care to waste their time on his face, they would have deemed him to be just a look alike of the traitor.

“Anna, look up.” There was no need for the elder to say that as the damsel was already gawking at the guest. “His love is strong enough to thaw her.” The bolder grinned at the young man.

Baffled, the Princess Regent stood up with weak knees. “That’s impossible. He resents her!” She jabbed a finger at him.

He only watched, a little dazed himself.

 “Oh you’d be surprised what he’s hiding beneath that façade he’s always carrying.” He smiled.

Unfazed, she protested more still albeit the answer was already right in front of her. “How can this be?”

Before the elder rolled back to where he came from, he gave the answer he’d been giving her since, only he added a little touch up. “An act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. You have the man that loves your sister so, you just need to make you sister know that he does.”

There was only one thing they agreed on when the elder left them in the starkness.

 

  _How?_


End file.
